


it just be like that

by QQI25



Series: # justtreehousethings [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Dadpool, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QQI25/pseuds/QQI25
Summary: Prompt #53: After a big fight in NYC, Spider-Man swings away and hides himself in a treehouse in a small garden. Ellie finds Spider-Man crying his heart and soul out in her fortress.But seriously, he’s just one spider and has worries too!





	it just be like that

**Author's Note:**

> i've given up on titles nd will now turn to memes nd shit for them. bc thts how it rly be on this bitch of an earth
> 
> this is my Big Boi nd the prompt is from the spbb
> 
> more to come from this au/series ;)

Today has just been a shit day, and that feels like putting it lightly. He’d woken up and found - to his absolute delight - that he’d gotten his period. Flash must’ve _known_ or something, because it felt like his teasing was more relentless than usual. The calls of Penis Parker had followed him down the halls and _god_ , wasn’t that the shittiest thing ever? Reminding you that one of the things you wanted you didn’t have? He’d been tired too, because when wasn’t he tired with patrol every night, and it’d made focusing especially hard today. And then he’d gone on patrol, hoping that this one time it’d be more peaceful, but the city had been out to get him, it seemed. He sometimes wonders if he even makes a difference. If he doesn’t, what’s the point? Crime is bound to be rampant in a big city, regardless of how many supers are around. Homework is still something he needs to do, and patrol time is cutting into homework time. 

Peter’s solution for today is to stop patrol early, collapse in someone’s treehouse, and just start crying. He tries to do it silently, and his ribs ache from the damage he’d taken. He’s got his mask pulled up onto the bridge of his nose and takes deep, heaving breaths. He somehow doesn’t even notice that someone has joined him until they speak. It’s a little girl. 

“Hi Spider-Man,” she says cautiously. “My name’s Ellie. Are you okay?” 

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” he manages to get out. She narrows her eyes. 

“I think you’re lying because you’re crying right now. But I know it probably sucks so I won’t ask more. Do you wanna come in and eat some cookies? Daddy’s really good at making food, and it helps me a little when _I_ get sad.” Peter hesitates. 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” Ellie continues when he doesn’t respond. “And Daddy’s really nice. He won’t tell anyone either. And we both really like Spider-Man because he’s super duper cool, so we’ll be really nice.”

“Okay,” Peter says tentatively. Ellie perks up.

“Yay! Come follow me!” She leads them down the tree and to the back door, which is unlocked.

“Hi Daddy! I found a spider in my treehouse!” Ellie calls out into the house as she takes off her shoes. Peter hears the stove going. It smells good. 

“Hi Ellie Belly! That’s good! I hope you didn’t kill it!”

“Of course not, Daddy! I think we’re even friends now! Come see!” There’s footsteps, and then a tall, muscular man with scars all over comes into view. He’s so big that Peter quite honestly feels intimidated, but Ellie just runs over to him and he scoops her up. Then, he looks at Peter. It makes him feel self-conscious. He thinks about how his face must be all red (luckily part of it is still masked), how his chest must jut out a bit too much to pass, how scrawny he is, how short he is. 

“Hey,” the man says. His voice is gravelly, but kind. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch? You look like you could use a break.” So Peter walks over to the couch and sits, closing his eyes. He listens to them in the other room. They’re talking in low voices, but he can hear almost perfectly. 

“Ellie! You didn’t tell me it was _Spider-Man_ that was your spider friend!” There’s a giggle.

“Yeah I wanted to surprise you! But Daddy, he’s sad today, so you hafta be nice. Also I told him you make good cookies.”

“You know what, Ellie? Go ask him if he wants to stay over for dinner,” he says decisively. 

“Okay!” He hears her skip over and opens his eyes. 

“Hi Spider-Man! D’you wanna eat dinner with us?”

“I mean . . . I don’t wanna intrude, or anything.”

“Nonsense,” her dad declares. “You wouldn’t be intruding; I’m sure Ellie would love to have you over.”

“I’m sure _Daddy_ would love to have you over!” A smile slips onto Peter’s face at that. He can tell how close they are.

“Okay, if you guys are sure.” Ellie woots. 

“Are you thirsty, Spider-Man? Do you want something to drink? Daddy and I made some lemonade and it’s really yummy.” 

“Sure, I’ll have some lemonade.”

“Come follow me!” He follows her into the kitchen, where she gets on a footstool to reach the glasses in the cabinet. She sets them on the counter and gets a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge, pouring out three glasses, which she sets on the table. He takes one of them gratefully. It really is really yummy. 

“You can sit wherever you wanna. Dinner’s almost ready.” Peter sits in the seat closest to him, and Ellie sits next to him. 

“So what’s it like being Spider-Man? It’s probably really hard, right?” 

“It is, actually.”

“Do you ever get scared?”

“I . . . yeah. I do.” It’s really strange, to have someone talk about the hard aspects of being Spider-Man. He feels like whenever people ask about it (not that there’s many people that know), they talk about the easy parts. Or like, when the news talk about Mr. Stark and all the destruction he’s caused, but they don’t talk about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t done what he did. It’s kinda like that, a little bit. 

“But you still do it?”

“Yeah. . . . Sometimes, I don’t know if I wanna. I feel like I’m not really helping anyone,” he admits. He looks at her to gauge her reaction, and sees her eyes widen. 

“Really? You really feel like you’re not helping anyone? Well, I think your brain is lying to you! Spider-Man’s my favourite hero because he helps out regular people! I like that he helps people around the city. A lot of times people think about everyone in the whole wide world, but no one thinks about each person. But Spider-Man does! You try your best, and I really like that!” It makes him tear up, if he’s gonna be honest. She can’t be older than ten, and she sounds so wise. 

“Thanks so much, Ellie. That means a lot.” 

“Thank _you_ , Spider-Man. _You_ mean a lot to the city. Even if some people and you say you don’t.” Peter pulls the mask fully off and places it on the table. 

“My name’s Peter.” Ellie seems delighted to know this.

“Hi Peter!” Her dad heads over then, setting a platter down on the middle of a table, as well as a stack of three plates and spoons.

“That reminds me, I never introduced myself. I’m Wade Wilson, food extraordinaire at your service. Today’s dinner is paella, so I hope you aren’t allergic to shrimp.” Peter shakes his head, so Ellie’s dad starts plating some of the rice. “Good! Tell me when to stop.” 

“That’s good,” Peter says when it’s enough for him. Ellie’s dad puts the plate and a spoon in front of him. “Thanks, Mr. Wilson.” 

“Oh god, you guys make me feel so old,” Mr. Wilson groans. Ellie giggles, so Peter’s face breaks out into a cautious smile. He plates some rice for Ellie and himself and then sits down across from Peter. “So Pete. Got anyone at home we needta contact? Your folks know where you are?”

“Uh, yeah. My aunt knows I’m Spider-Man, and that I patrol.” Mr. Wilson nods.

“Good, good. . . . Ellie found you in her treehouse, yeah? You wanna talk about that? No pressure, of course.”

“Today was just . . . a really bad day,” Peter says, sighing. “I . . . bullies, y’know? Well, one bully in particular, really, and a buncha bystanders that egg him on. And uh, and then I’m always tired because of patrol, y’know? So it makes it harder to focus in class. And then there’s the homework load, and patrol, and I just feel like I have so _much_ to do.” Mr. Wilson nods understandingly. 

“You know you never have to do this alone, right? This patrol thing? I know it probably feels like with the Spider-Man thing that nothing else really matters, but that’s not true. If you care about school, you care about school. You can always take time off and tell someone else to patrol for you. Like me. I’m Deadpool. Usedta be a merc, retired to take care of Ellie, but I’ve still got it. I can still incapacitate baddies without unaliving them. I’ll give you my number, and you just text or call me if you ever need that okay? Really, Pete. And if you ever need to stop by here for anything at all, you can do that too,” Mr. Wilson says firmly. He’s looking right at Peter, but everything's getting blurry. Peter rubs at his eyes. 

“Thanks so much, Mr. Wilson.”

“Of course. You’re a good kid. Let’s play some tunes, huh? Lighten up the mood?” When Peter and Ellie nod, he takes out his phone and starts scrolling. He clicks on something, and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” starts playing. It makes him think of Aunt May, and he smiles. 

“I think you and my aunt would be good friends.”

“Yeah? What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s very motherhen-ny,” he starts.

“Yeah and you are too, Daddy,” Ellie pipes up. 

“She’s really kind. Funny. Sassy. She really likes listening to old songs too. She likes dancing. But she’s horrible at cooking. Very bad. We usually go out to eat.” That makes Mr. Wilson laugh. 

“It _does_ sound like we could be good friends. Do you ever talk about the bullying with her?”

“I . . . well, no. She’s just so busy because she’s a nurse and she’s gotta take care of me, and I don’t wanna put that pressure on her, I guess.”

“That’s fair,” Mr. Wilson concedes. “But remember, assuming she’s a good person, she cares about you and wants to hear about your life and problems. It will never be a bother to her. In fact, I’m sure she’d love that you would trust her to tell her about things like that. Keep that in mind, kiddo.” Peter nods. They eat the rest of dinner with the only noise being the music playing. It’s all songs Peter’s heard before, from Aunt May’s impromptu dance parties around the house. 

When they’re all done with dinner, Mr. Wilson stacks up the dishes and brings them over to the sink. Ellie goes off somewhere else. Peter follows Mr. Wilson. 

“I can help you with the washing up, if you want,” Peter offers. Mr. Wilson waves him off. 

“No, no. Go relax. Hang out with Ellie. Or hang out by yourself. Whichever you want. All I needta do is load the dishwasher. It won’t take long at all.” Peter obediently and reluctantly walks over to find Ellie. She’s sitting on the couch, a book in her lap. 

“Hi Peter. Can I show you some of my drawings?” 

“I’d love to see them,” he enthuses. She opens it up and starts flipping through them. She tells him about drawings of her and her dad, of her dad as Deadpool, of Spider-Man, of her and Spider-Man, of her and her dad and Spider-Man. He feels so privileged to be a big part of her drawings. 

“Do you love them, Peter?” 

“I do, El! I really do! They look so amazing!” She positively beams at that, and it makes him smile in return. 

“Do you wanna do some drawing together?”

“I’d be honoured to draw with you. Do you have paper? What are we gonna draw?” Ellie rushes to her room and comes back out, carefully holding a box of colouring supplies with a stack of paper balanced precariously on top. She places them on the coffee table and Peter sits next to her.

“Let’s make a list of stuff to draw!”

“Sure.”

“I’ll write them down. What do you like? I like space,” Ellie declares. 

“Yeah, space is pretty cool!” 

“Okay let’s draw the planets and the sun and the moon and stars and rockets and alien spaceships!” She starts writing all these things down, and they’re all spelled correctly. “Do you know your planets?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?” 

“Yes! I can tell you! Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune,” Ellie sings. “Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune.” Mr. Wilson joins in too. “And that’s how you remember your planets. Well, some people like to say a sentence that has those letters, but that one has Pluto, and Pluto’s actually not a planet because it’s a dwarf. And did you know it’s not the only one in our solar system? There’s also Ceres and Eris and Haumea and Makemake.”

“No I did _not_ know that.”

“Yeah. I can draw them to show you.” She draws a line up of the planets, starting with half of the sun on one side of the paper. “See. These are all the planets and dwarf planets.” She tells him what each planet is. “Now it’s your turn.” She hands him a paper and he takes out his phone to get the planets right. As he starts his own, she continues adding different elements to hers, like the asteroid belt and the stars and some rocketships and alien spaceships. She peeks over at his paper, where he’s just starting a spaceship. 

“Wow. Your drawing’s really good, Peter.”

“Thank you! I really like yours too!” 

“Thanks! Daddy, are you almost done yet?”

“Almost, sweetheart!”

“Daddy’s a really good drawer,” Ellie informs Peter. They go back to drawing, and Mr. Wilson eventually joins them, taking a piece of paper of his own and sitting across from them. Peter finds himself starting to yawn, and Mr. Wilson looks at the time. 

“It’s getting late, kiddos. Ellie, go brush your teeth. Petey, whaddyou wanna do? You can stay here, or we can take you home, or you can go home yourself. It’s up to you.” 

“Uh, you guys take me home. If you’re okay with that.”

“More than okay,” Mr. Wilson affirms. He goes back into the kitchen and comes back out a few minutes later with a Tupperware of cookies. Ellie’s back in the living room too, teeth brushed and jacket on. 

“Alright, kids. Let’s go. How far’s your house, Pete? Do you wanna wear regular clothes or something?”

“Uh yeah, sure. That’s a good idea,” Peter says gratefully. So Mr. Wilson goes into what’s presumably his own bedroom and comes back out with a hoodie and some sweats, and Peter pulls them on over his suit, making sure no red peeks through. He stuffs his mask in the front pocket of the hoodie. He tells Mr. Wilson where it is, and they start walking, because Mr. Wilson declares it’s not a bad night for a walk. Ellie’s settled on Mr. Wilson’s shoulders, and Peter has the Tupperware clutched carefully in his hands. 

When they trek up the stairs to the door of Peter’s apartment, Peter hears faint traces of music coming from inside. May’s already home. He knocks on the door.

“Hey, Pete,” Aunt May says. “You’re back early tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“And who’s this?”

“Uh, this is Mr. Wilson, and his daughter, Ellie. And it’s kind of a . . . long . . . story as to how I met them. I have uh, cookies? From them. Homemade.”

“Oh, well that’s nice of you guys. Thank you so much. I’d invite you in, but your kid up there looks about ready to pass out.” As if to illustrate the point, Ellie yawns. 

“Yeah,” Mr. Wilson agrees with a fond chuckle.

“Maybe next time. What’s your number?” Aunt May and Mr. Wilson exchange numbers, and then give their phones back to each other. 

“Daddy, let me down. Wanna say bye t’ Pete.” Ellie thumps softly on her dad’s shoulder, and he does as she says. She goes towards Peter, so he sets down the Tupperware and crouches down to hug her tight. 

“Bye Ellie.”

“Bye Peter. I hope I see you soon. It was really fun to meet you. I hope you have a good week.” 

“Thanks, Ellie. I hope you have a good week too.” He rises up to say bye to Mr. Wilson and hug him. “Bye, Mr. Wilson. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, Pete. Anytime. Bye May. Your kid was a real treasure.” Peter sees May puff up a little with pride.

“Of course he was. Bye Wade. Hopefully I won’t be too busy and we’ll be able to see each other soon.” Mr. Wilson sets Ellie back on his shoulders and they head down the hall to the stairs. May closes the door with a soft snick. They head to the kitchen and Peter sets the Tupperware down. May opens it and takes a cookie. 

“These are delicious, Pete. Have you had one yet?” She holds one out to him and he takes it, taking a bite. 

“Oh wow. Yeah they really are.” 

“God, if I could bake like this, our house would be _filled_ with goodies,” Aunt May says, laughing. Peter laughs too. “You need to go to bed soon too, mister. Don’t think I didn’t catch you yawning as well.”

“You got me,” Peter says, standing up and holding his hands out. “Good night Aunt May.” He hugs her. 

“Good night Peter.” 

\- - - 

The next time Peter sees them is on a Friday night. Aunt May gets a call from Wade. 

“Hey, May-May. Listen, I wouldn’t call you unless it was an actual emergency, but are you busy this weekend? I’ve got an assignment, and I don’t wanna leave Ellie with someone I don’t trust.”

“I’m not busy this weekend.”

“Oh good.” Peter can hear the relief in his voice. “So would it be okay if Ellie stayed with you guys?”

“Oh, more than okay.”

“Okay. Thank you so much. We’ll be over in around 20?”

There’s a knocking at the door, and Peter opens it to see Mr. Wilson and Ellie, except it’s only kinda Mr. Wilson. Today, he’s wearing his Deadpool costume. Ellie’s got on a jacket and a backpack. 

“Be good, okay? Love ya, Ellie Belly.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” She hugs him tight and goes inside the house. 

“Thank you again so much, May.”

“Of course, of course. Least I could do after you took care of Pete and sent him home with the most delicious cookies.”

“Why thank you. It’s a gift,” Mr. Wilson preens. He and Aunt May laugh. “Bye May. Bye, Pete. See you guys soon.” He ruffles Peter’s hair and then he’s off. 

“Hi Peter. Hi Ms. May,” Ellie says cheerfully. She takes off her shoes and sets down her backpack to take off her jacket. 

“Hey Ellie. I can take your jacket for you, sweetie,” May says. Ellie hands over the jacket and May hangs it up. “Make yourself at home. Pete, why don’t you go show her your room?”

“Sure. Come with me, Ellie. You’ll be sleeping in my room this weekend. It’s a little bit messy. This one’s me, the top bunk, and this one’s you, the bottom.”

“Cool! I have a bunk bed too!”

“Nice! They’re fun.” 

“Yeah. Do you ever crawl on the ceiling to get to bed? Is it easier?” Peter laughs as Ellie looks up, planning routes to the bed. 

“I _do_ crawl on the ceiling to get to bed sometimes,” Peter admits. “It definitely can be a lot quieter, so if I’m out late, I usually take to the ceiling.” 

“Cool. I wish I could crawl on the ceiling. That way I could scare Daddy! He would scream and scream.” Ellie breaks into a fit of giggles. “Do you ever scare Ms. May?”

“Uhhh sometimes. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. I forget how quiet I can be, and she doesn’t notice I’m there.” 

“Do you have a lot of homework this weekend?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Oh. Is it hard?”

“Some of it, yeah. But my friends Ned and MJ sometimes come over, or we just text each other and help each other that way.”

“Are they gonna come this weekend?”

“Do you want them to? I think you’d like MJ.”

“Sure!” 

“Okay, then I gotta ask May.” Ellie follows Peter to the living room. 

“Hey May,” Peter starts. 

“What’s up?”

“Can Ned and MJ come over this weekend?”

“Sure, if Ellie’s okay with that.”

“Yep!”

“When are they coming?”

“Uhh I’ll ask.”

“Okay. You do that, and tell me what they say.” 

Peter  
_hey guys do u wna come ovr this wknd nd like do hw nd shit_

Ned  
_defo_

MJ  
_when_

Peter  
_when r u guys available??_

Ned  
_tmr after 1_

 _MJ liked a message_

Peter  
_alr tmr then see u guys (:_

_Ned loved a message_

_MJ liked a message_

“They said tomorrow.”

“Alright. Are you guys hungry yet?”

“You know me. I’m _al_ ways hungry.”

“Me too! Except sometimes not really,” Ellie chimes in. They laugh. 

“Alright, Miss Ellie. Do you like Thai?” 

“Yeah. I like a lotta foods because Daddy likes a lotta foods.”

“Okay. Let’s go walking then.” They grab their jackets and put on their shoes and head out. Ellie latches onto Peter’s hand. Her hand feels _so small_. He wonders what it would’ve been like growing up with a younger sibling. 

\- - - 

Peter wakes up at 10 to Ellie drawing at his desk. She’s got her sketchbook open and her box of colouring supplies on top of Peter’s stack of junk. It makes him feel bad to see her working so quietly. He gets down from the bunk bed and stands behind her to watch. 

“Hey Ellie. Whatchu drawing?”

“I’m drawing space,” she replies. “This is a pretend planet getting hit by asteroids.”

“Oh wow. Okay. Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“You could’ve woken me or Aunt May up, silly.”

“It’s okay. That way you had a break and you got sleep because you said you have a lot of homework today.” 

“Aww thank you, Ellie. That’s really sweet of you.” 

“Mmhmm. Are you going to eat now?”

“Yeah, if you wanna.”

“What are you gonna eat?”

“‘M gonna have frosted flakes. D’you want some too? Or something else?”

“I _like_ frosted flakes! I’m ready to go eat,” Ellie declares after setting down her pencil. 

“Okay. Let’s go eat.” They walk to the kitchen together, where Ellie sits down at the table and waits as Peter makes their bowls of cereal. May walks in shortly after and starts making her coffee. 

“Good morning Ms. May,” Ellie says cheerfully.

“Good morning Ellie. Morning, Pete.”

“Morning, Aunt May.” 

“You guys got any big plans today besides hanging out with Ned and MJ?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna draw. Peter, you can draw with me too if you want.”

“Sure.” They get up and bring their empty bowls and spoons to the sink.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Aunt May calls after them. 

“Will do,” Peter calls back. 

After brushing their teeth, they go back to their room, and Ellie decides to bring the supplies out to the table because there aren’t two chairs inside. They start drawing again, Ellie some space stuff and Peter random aliens and spiders.

“What do you like to do with your friends?”

“Ned and I like to build Legos.”

“That’s so cool! What Legos have you guys built?”

“Well, we usually build Star Wars stuff.”

“Daddy likes Star Wars.”

“Do you have Legos too?”

“Yeah, I have some rocketships and some treehouses and stuff.”

“That’s cool. Maybe one day we can all play together.”

“I wanna do that!” Peter laughs a little.

“Yeah. May or I can text your dad when Ned and I are free and see when you’re free.” They go back to drawing in silence. 

For lunch, they just have grilled cheese and tomato soup, because that’s one of the dishes May can make, and one of Peter’s favourites. Other than that, they don’t do much else besides drawing until Ned and MJ get here. Peter gets up before they knock because he can hear footsteps outside. 

“Hey guys,” he says when he opens the door.

“Hey Peter,” Ned says brightly.

“‘Sup. Oh, since when did you have a sister?” MJ’s looking behind him to the dining table. Peter closes the door. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you guys. This is Ellie. I met her and her dad like a week or so ago, and she’s staying with us for the weekend.” Ned and MJ nod. “I’m gonna go get my homework first.” They sit down at the table as he goes back to his room.

“And this is a planet getting hit by asteroids, but it’s only a planet I made up. Do you guys like drawing too?” Ellie’s asking when he gets back. She’s holding up her sketchbook for them to look at, reminiscent of what Peter thinks a business meeting might be like. He plops down next to Ellie. 

“MJ’s actually really good at drawing,” Ned replies. “I sometimes draw, but not as much, I imagine, as MJ.”

“Oh! Can I see your drawings, MJ?”

“Sure.” MJ pulls her own sketchbook out of her bag, flipping through some pages before settling on one and letting Ellie see it. It’s one of the ones she did of him at detention.

“Oh. Is that Peter?”

“It _is_ ,” MJ confirms. She looks pleased that Ellie could tell. 

“Wow. It’s really good! But Peter looks so sad there.”

“That’s what happens when you skip class.” Ellie’s eyes widen at that.

“Peter, you skipped class?”

“I - uh, yeah. In my defense, I was working on a mission.”

“Like Daddy’s missions?”

“I dunno. This one . . . I kinda gave it to myself. Ned helped me, of course, but it’s not like I was talking to Mr. Stark about it or anything.” 

“That’s so cool! You guys are like a superhero team!” 

“Yep. I’m his guy in the chair,” Ned says proudly. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means I help him with technology. If he needs to like, track a bad guy or something, that’s my job. If he needs to find information, that’s my job.”

“Do _you_ do anything, MJ?”

“Yeah. I make sure they don’t do things that are too stupid and get themselves killed.” Ellie laughs and MJ smiles.

“That’s a pretty important job.” 

“It certainly is, and sometimes it’s a lot of work.” 

“That’s because they’re boys, and boys are stupid. I know because my daddy is a boy and he’s stupid sometimes. But it’s okay because he’s nice too if you’re nice.” This feeling of warmth settles in his bones and his chest at hearing Ellie call him a boy. He sometimes feel like he doesn't seem like much of one at all, at least in society’s eyes.

They don’t end up doing much studying, but that’s okay, because their homework this weekend isn’t even that hard. They mostly just talk with Ellie. It makes him really happy to see them all happy. She draws more with MJ, talks about Legos with him and Ned. At one point, May takes Ellie for a little walk so that they can actually do homework. Ned and MJ don’t leave ‘til after dinner.

\- - -

Mr. Wilson comes back Sunday evening. He’s still in his costume, and he looks tired. Ellie launches herself at him when he opens the door, and he catches her in his arms.

“Daddy! I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, pumpkin. Did you have fun?”

“Mmhmm so much fun! And Peter’s friends came over yesterday and MJ’s really good at drawing and Ned’s really good at computers an’ Legos!”

“That sounds like lots of fun. Hey Peter. Hey May May.”

“Hi Mr. Wilson!”

“May, is there any chance you could convince him _not_ to make me feel so old by calling me that?” May laughs.

“You can certainly try. He does the same with Tony, calls him Mr. Stark and makes him feel uncomfortable. Doesn’t matter what Tony says, though; he’s not changing it.”

“Well yeah, because it makes me feel bad. Weird. Like, when I go to Ned’s house, I don’t call his parents by their names; I call them Mr. and Mrs. Leeds.” 

“Kid has a point. Anyway, all due respect, but you better not have any blood on that uniform. Costume. Whatever. If I find any blood anywhere . . .”

“No worries. No blood this time.” 

“Do you need anything? A drink? Food?”

“Water would be nice, thanks.” Aunt May goes to get him water, and they sit down on the couch, Ellie on Mr. Wilson’s lap. 

“Mr. Wilson? What do you do?”

“Oh y’know, Stark sends me out on missions. They’re mostly intel and recon and stuff. I’m a real adept spy - part of the advantage of being in the military - and they put that to good use.” 

“Oh. So you’re just like . . . watching people?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Is it boring? Is it hard?”

“Yes it can get boring, but it’s not usually too hard.”

“Is it sweaty? Because I get sweaty like, all the time.” 

“It actually _is_ sweaty.” 

“Are you sweaty right now?”

“A little, yeah. But I’m used to it.”

“Oh. Why don’t you just, like, change into your normal clothes?” 

“You know, you ask a lotta questions, kid.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing. It’s endearing.” 

“Oh.”

“Here’s your water, Wade.” Mr. Wilson takes the glass of water from Aunt May, who goes back into the kitchen. 

“Right. Thanks. Ellie Belly, can you get off me?” Ellie slides down from his lap onto the couch in between Peter and Mr. Wilson. Mr. Wilson peels up the bottom half of his mask, resting it on the bridge of his nose so he can take a sip. 

“Are you guys hungry?” Aunt May calls from the kitchen. Ellie patters over to her and they start having a conversation. Peter turns his attention back to Wade. 

“How come you don’t just pull off your mask? May already kinda knows who you are,” Peter points out. Mr. Wilson smiles wryly. 

“It’s not about who I am; it’s more about _what_ I am. I just don’t wanna give her nightmares. She’s gotta take care of you, after all, and how awful would I feel knowing she wasn’t taking as good of care of you as she could because she wasn’t sleeping well?”

“D’you mean like . . . Deadpool?” Mr. Wilson huffs out a laugh. 

“Pete, you’re a real special kid. Love ya to bits, honey. No. I meant the scars. She hadn’t seen them last time because I’d had my hood up and my Hello Kitty mask on.” Peter’s face clears up. 

“Oh! Well, Aunt May probably won’t care. Listen. I’m a teenager. My friends are teenagers. She’s probably seen weirder stuff from us. Not! I mean not that your _face_ and _scars_ look weird. Wow that was mean I’m sorry. I just meant like. Maybe they’re not _normal_ but they’re probably not the most not-normal things she’s seen. If that makes you feel any better. I think if you wanna take it off, you should just take it off right now, and then she won’t have time to like, comment on it because we’re deciding dinner.” Mr. Wilson cocks his head. 

“Y’know what, Bitsy? You’re right. You’re a smart kid,” Mr. Wilson praises before reaching up to take the mask off fully. Peter smiles. 

“Hi Mr. Wilson.” 

“Hi kid.” Peter gets up and goes to the kitchen. 

“May! Have you guys decided what we’re having for dinner yet?”

“Oh, we’re gonna have Mexican because it’s Daddy’s favourite and he’s tired today. Do you know what you like?” 

“Well what are _you_ guys getting?” So Ellie tells him their usual order and he requests what they have. 

Peter’s right of course, Aunt May doesn’t say anything besides “you’ve got beautiful eyes”. Peter can tell Mr. Wilson is surprised. 

Ellie and Mr. Wilson leave after dinner. There’s a drawing on Peter’s desk of him and Ellie.

\- - -

Sometimes Aunt May takes a night shift. It means Peter stays out patrolling until he’s blinking slower and slower and is forced to go home and sleep. He hates how empty the apartment feels at night when it’s just him. The quietness and stillness is unsettling. This time though, he gets to go stay with Mr. Wilson and Ellie for a night. 

After school gets out, he goes immediately to their place. Ellie’s still at school, so it’s just him and Mr. Wilson. Peter goes to the kitchen and takes a seat, setting his backpack down at his side. 

“You hungry, Pete?”

“Always,” Peter answers immediately. Mr. Wilson laughs. 

“Craving anything in particular?”

“Mmm goldfish? And apple juice?”

“Sure. How was school?” 

“It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He absentmindedly drums his fingers on the table. 

“That Flash kid still bothering you?”

“Yeah. . . . but it’s . . . nothing out of the ordinary, so.” He looks up to see Mr. Wilson scowling. 

“I’m gonna go teach that kid a lesson one day. Here’s the goldfish and apple juice, Pete.” Mr. Wilson sets down a bowl of goldfish and a glass of apple juice in front of Peter. 

“Thanks. Can I tell you something, Mr. Wilson?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“ . . . I’m trans. That’s . . . mainly the reason Flash bullies me. He calls me Penis Parker like, all the time. And it’s like, it wouldn’t be a big deal to a _cis_ guy right, because like. Way to state the obvious. But for me, it’s like he’s taunting me with something I can’t have. At least right now.” Mr. Wilson takes a seat across from him. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that, Pete. I’m sorry you have to constantly deal with that. God. Kids are such cruel fuckheads.” The corner of Peter’s mouth quirks up. 

“Yeah. They really are sometimes.” 

“What did you usually do when May had to work night shift?” 

“I uh . . . patrolled. Until really late when I could barely keep my eyes open. And then went back to the apartment to sleep.”

“And what, to you, is really late?”

“Like 3? In the morning? Even on a school night.”

“Peter,” Mr. Wilson admonishes. “That is _so_ bad for your health.”

“I know, I know. But like, the apartment’s quiet and creepy at night if Aunt May isn’t home and I _hate_ it.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing we met then.” Peter laughs and Mr. Wilson smiles. 

“Yeah it really is.” 

“Do you need anything else, Pete? Wanna watch something or play games or something?” 

“I actually was gonna just do homework first.”

“Good answer! That is the _right_ answer, Pete. I’ll just leave you to it, then. Call for me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wilson!”

“Of course. Also, are you patrolling tonight?” 

“Uh, yeah. Is that okay?”

“Yes, yes. I just needed to know in advance so I don’t like, freak the fuck out. Sorry, do you swear? I swear a lot and if you’re uncomfortable with swears I can stop.”

“No, you’re good. When Aunt May found out I was Spider-Man, she went ‘what the fuck?!’ so I know adults swear. Also kids do? A lot? Well like, teenagers. I actually swear a bit. I just try to tone it down with Ellie.” 

“Well you don’t need to tone anything down with me,” Mr. Wilson declares. 

“Okay, Mr. Wilson,” Peter says, smiling. 

“I’ll let you get to your homework now, but Pete, if you ever need anything, someone to talk to, _any_ thing at all, you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay.” He starts doing his homework.

Peter’s done with his homework by the time Ellie comes home. She regales them with stories about her day as she has her snack. When she’s done, they go to the park. There’s one of those “web” structures there, and Peter hangs out on it before he and Ellie have a competition to see who can swing higher. It’s Ellie, because certain heights from certain places unsettle him. 

They get dinner at a food cart before going home, and then get Chinese egg waffles as a dessert. Peter stays until Ellie falls asleep, then gets suited up and says bye to Mr. Wilson before going on patrol. He gets back at 2 because there’s not much going on tonight, and Mr. Wilson hadn’t seemed too happy with him being out so late. He crawls through a window, changes out of the suit, and goes to sleep. 

Peter wakes up from a nightmare. The nightmare itself is gone, but he still remembers and feels that terror. A glance at his phone tells him it’s 4:53. He gives up on trying to go back to sleep, at least for now, and opts, instead, to crawl along the ceiling out of the room. He shares a room with Ellie here, too, and he doesn’t wanna wake her up. Mr. Wilson is already in the living room, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Peter crawls until he’s right in Mr. Wilson’s line of vision. Mr. Wilson startles and Peter snickers before dropping down next to him.

“Fuck, Peter, you scared me half to death! Which wouldn’t mean much since I can come back to life, but it’s the thought that counts.” Peter widens his eyes.

“You can come back to life?”

“Yep,” Mr. Wilson answers, popping the “p”.

“Wow.”

“Anyway, that’s not the important question right now. The important question right now is ‘why the hell are you up?’ Seriously kid, it’s . . . 5am. Don’t tell me you always wake up this early. ‘Specially with you coming home from patrol so late.”

“No. I just had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Mr. Wilson’s face softens. “Wanna talk about it?” Peter shrugs.

“There’s not much to talk about. I don’t really remember it. I’m just like, lowkey still terrified.”

“Ah,” Mr. Wilson says, nodding in understanding.

“How come _you're_ up, Mr. Wilson?” Peter gasps. “Do you not needta sleep?” That makes Mr. Wilson laugh.

“No, I _do_ need sleep. I’m in the same boat as you, kiddo.”

“Oh,” Peter says, face clearing. “D’you . . . wanna talk about it?”

“Nah.”

“Okay.” 

“D’you wanna watch something? Ellie’s been really into watching TED-Ed videos right now.”

“Oh my god no way! Me too! Yeah, let’s watch TED-Ed videos!” Mr. Wilson laughs again and turns on the tv. “Come closer, kiddo.” Peter scoots closer and Mr. Wilson puts an arm around his shoulders. He leans into the embrace. 

“Can we watch that one?” He points at one and Mr. Wilson chooses it. The familiar TED-Ed intro theme starts playing and he relaxes. 

As they continue watching videos, his eyelids start getting heavier and he keeps blinking furiously to try to get his eyes to stop staying closed. The videos are _in_ teresting and he _wants_ to keep watching! He’s just starting to feel tired again.

Peter wakes up lying down on the couch, tucked into a blanket. The stove is on, and it smells good. He gets up, stretching his arms, and goes to the bathroom first. When he’s done, he makes his way over to the kitchen. Mr. Wilson’s wearing an apron, making pancakes, and whistling cheerfully. 

“Good morning, Mr. Wilson.”

“‘Morning Pete! Any more nightmares?”

“Nope! Thanks for staying up with me last night.”

“‘Course, Pete. ‘Course. Anytime.” 

\- - - 

“Hey Pete!” Mr. Wilson says when he walks in. Peter goes over to Mr. Wilson’s house a lot now. He dumps his backpack on the floor and sits on the couch and doesn’t respond. 

“It must be so convenient to not die,” Peter says suddenly. “You could kill yourself as many times as you wanted or needed to and temporarily _stop_ it all and then get back into the swing - hah - of things. Yeah. Must be nice. I’m jealous.” He stares at the ceiling as if it could possibly help with how he’s feeling. 

“Pete, c’mere,” Mr. Wilson says softly. He’s moved to sit next to Peter and Peter goes without hesitation into his embrace. Mr. Wilson hugs Peter as tightly as he hugs Mr. Wilson. He starts crying. 

“ _Fuck_ , Mr. Wilson, I feel so fucking _horr_ ible. I just want it all to fucking _end_. I don’t - don’t _need_ any of it. I don’t need school and homework and thinking about college and what career I’m gonna have for the rest of my fucking life and patrolling and not sleeping. I feel awful. I feel like a fucking failure. How do normal people get through this?” 

“I wish I could tell ya, sweetie,” Mr. Wilson whispers. Mr. Wilson holds him ‘til his crying dies down. Then Peter extricates himself from the embrace and just settles into a ball at Mr. Wilson’s side.

“What do _you_ usually do?” Peter asks. Mr. Wilson snorts.

“Exactly what you wish you could. Doesn’t happen much now with Ellie around. I usually just. Lay down. Or try to sleep. Or throw myself into cooking. Or oh, I’m really good at just letting all the feelings well up and build up inside me. Not a very good plan, that last one. What do you think would make _you_ feel better, at this moment?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says miserably. Probably getting his mind off things, but he doesn’t know how to do that. Has never really been able to, in the heat of the moment. “I’m so tired, but it’s like . . . a mental exhaustion. I’m _always_ tired.” Mr. Wilson cards his fingers through Peter’s hair and Peter closes his eyes. 

“I probably can’t help you with the other stuff,” Mr. Wilson says slowly, “but we can take care of the patrolling. Take a break, Pete. Call up Tony.” 

“I can’t go to Mr. Stark about this,” Peter protests. “This is like . . . small fry stuff we’re talking about.” 

“Sure you can, Pete. By telling the world that he’s Iron Man, this is his job,” Wade reminds him. “He _chose_ to do this. And _your_ main jobs at this age are to stay on top of schooling and take care of yourself the best you can. Tony and Bruce are very smart people, and I’m sure you can go to them with homework help in certain subjects. If you’re taking Spanish, I’m fluent and can help if you need it. As for taking care of yourself and your exhaustion, do things that give you mental breaks. Hang out with friends more. Do some mindless shit, like colouring and drawing and whatever comes naturally to you that you don’t needta put much thought into. You’re so young, Pete. You shouldn’t hafta deal with all this shit. Don’t feel obligated to help everyone. Even if you still do, the only way you can properly help is if you take care of yourself first, and make sure you’re at the top of your game, or as close as you can get. You can’t do much if you’re burned out, okay? Take things as they come. Tackle life problem by problem.” 

“Okay,” Peter says quietly. 

“Yeah? Think you can do that?”

“I can try.”

“That’s good. That’s good. I’m proud of you. Now, when you’re really happy, what are you doing?” 

“Um . . . when I’m really happy, I’m . . . drawing with Ellie, or hugging Aunt May, or hanging out with Ned and MJ, or in the lab with Mr. Stark and Mr. Banner, or um, being with you.” Peter looks up to see Mr. Wilson smiling warmly. 

“I’m happy that being with me makes you happy, kiddo. It makes me happy too. So maybe when you’re taking breaks from being Spider-Man, you could find more time to hang out with people. That _isn’t_ related to school. Just, all relaxing.” 

“Maybe, yeah.” 

“Whaddyou wanna do now?”

“Can we just . . . sit here?”

“Of _course_ we can. We can do what _ev_ er you want.”


End file.
